


Saturn Devouring his Son

by goldengoddess



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Only if you squint - Freeform, hanzos only mentioned lol but this is 500 words so whtre u gonna do, i have Strong feelings about genji OKay, lots of references to paintings, my boy :'(, shrug emoji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengoddess/pseuds/goldengoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji Shimada was more than just a painting on the wall, he was real, alive, and breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturn Devouring his Son

               Genji Shimada watched the world go by. He had always had the creeping suspicion that he was detached from the world, from his friends, family, his duty- whatever that meant. When he was little, he used to pretend to be a painting, hanging on the wall, standing so still that he scared the maids if he moved. It wasn’t that this position of being the resident tapestry was fun, but it was comfortable. Even during his more rebellious years, the idea of hiding in plain sight felt more comfortable than any wonder of glory. Maybe that’s why Hanzo hated him.

                But he didn’t, did he? Did he hate him when he walked away from Genji, too weak to gasp for air, instead wheezing quietly like his lungs were filled with haze and smoke? Genji had looked up into the night sky, vastly aware of his insignificance, worth so much less than the paintings he had pretended to be. He had been born like a rococo, lived like a Michelangelo, and died like the Lady Jane, falling into his execution blind, but with no one to weep for him. He swallowed down the fumes in his chest and found he was choking on fear. The grass underneath him was so soft, the flowers that surrounded him fragrant and beautiful, the lights in the house going off one by one.

                Home was a foreign concept to him. He had lived so long in the palace he felt he had no place in, then when he finally achieved his escape- in a manner far different than planned- he wandered, alone in the cold shield he had been told was a body. They had told him Overwatch could have been his home, could have been his safe place, his stronghold, but he fled as soon as he could. The smell of gun metal and blood was too strong, too reminiscent of the palace. By some strange coincidence- or divine intervention- at the point he had called his weakest moment, he had been found by children. Omnic children. Dressed in yellows and oranges and reds. He thought the sun had come to earth as he was wrapped in the vibrant cloth, coughing up more red as he was taken to a shrine of sorts. He had crumpled into a mess of legs and arms on the bamboo padded floor, unable to lift his head. The pain of dying again shook him as he shivered violently, unable to scream as a far older monk took off his mask, revealed destroyed skin, pale from blood loss.

                It took far too long for him to come to terms with who he was, what he was. It took years for him to not see his face as some twisted monster, Saturn ripping the throats of his children. He looked in the mirror and touched his cheek, his fingers just making contact with his skin. There was no way now he could be a dark painting in the background.


End file.
